


Much To Learn You Still Have, Young Padawan

by Edwardina



Category: Glee
Genre: Embarrassment, Gen, Kink Meme, M/M, Platonic Relationships, Star Wars References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-26 07:42:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1680275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edwardina/pseuds/Edwardina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glee kink meme fill; platonic, non-romantic Blam.  Blaine starts reading to Sam what turns out to be some smutty <i>Star Wars</i> slash, and is embarrassed, although Sam isn't.  When it comes to the smut, Blaine is pretty squicked by the mistakes and can't hold back his disapproving commentary, which makes Sam curiously ask questions about gay sex, so Blaine spills some details about his and Kurt's sex life.  In the end, there's no embarrassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Much To Learn You Still Have, Young Padawan

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for [this prompt](http://glee-kink-meme.livejournal.com/48822.html?thread=62801334#t62801334) on the Glee kink meme. I really wanted to write almost this exact scenario before I even saw the prompt, but I am not incredibly knowledgeable about _Star Wars_. I rewatched _Episode I_ and read old slash just for this. (And, yeah, technically, there is slash content in this fic, even though it's platonic Blam...)
> 
> Takes place in late S5, circa Tested.

" _Qui-Gon could not help but smile at his companion, who smiled back as if nothing at all was unusual_ ," narrated Blaine. " _For so long now, he had denied the truth, but the constant storm had weathered and worn him in more ways than one. There was something greater between them now, more than ever before. Qui-Gon was_ –"

He faltered abruptly, and the reading came to a halt.

"You stopped," said his captive audience, who was steadily snarfing down low-cal, gluten-free popcorn. An empty beer bottle sat in front of him.

"I, uh," muttered Blaine. "Sorry, Sam. I clicked the wrong link, or something... this is the wrong fanfiction."

"I was wondering why they were in a rainforest instead of the desert planet of Tatooine," said Sam.

"Yeah. No desert in sight, unfortunately," said Blaine, doing a quick scroll down the screen. "Just lots more Pandora-ish jungle."

"This isn't an _Avatar_ crossover, is it??"

"No."

"Aw. Well, whatever. I like Qui-Gon. He's probably my third favorite Jedi. And, like, it's pretty good so far. Shuttle crash, hostile monsoon planet, only one light saber, no Jar Jar. Keep going."

"Oh, I don't know if you really want me to," said Blaine, brows squinching apologetically. "It's one of those slash ones I was telling you about."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"But it's good, though!"

"Yeah, it's actually not bad. But I mean, the next line is, 'Qui-Gon was in love with Obi-Wan,' so."

"Huh," said Sam, his mouth hanging open with half-chewed popcorn sitting visibly inside it. He looked a little confused. Then he shrugged. "Well, like, I guess it actually makes a lot of sense."

"It _does_?"

"Yeah, dude. Like, they're stranded together all alone, with no other intelligent beings around... Obi-Wan's been taking care of him this whole time, like, treating his sickness and injuries... they're constantly taking shelter and playing house in those little caves and staring at the night sky. Kinda romantic. If Obi-Wan was a chick, they totally would've boned down by now."

"Oh," said Blaine with a sheepish chuckle. "I thought you might be, like, offended, or something."

"Seriously? Since when am I offended by gay stuff?"

"Well... never. But this is Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan, and they're probably gonna kiss. You love _Phantom Menace_ –"

"Shh!!" Sam managed, the noise urgent but a little popcorn-clogged. His socked feet came off the coffee table as he sat up straight and looked around the empty apartment quickly. "Keep it down, dude! Nobody knows my secret shame but you!"

"Well, we're all alone, just us bros, so... your secret remains safe," Blaine said dryly.

"Safe space?"

"Safe space."

"Okay," said Sam, relaxing. "Look, nothing could weird me out after that one that just had like five scenes of C-3PO changing baby Luke's diapers. If that didn't totally murder my childhood, nothing will. But... especially not Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan kissing. I mean, whatever. It's not _canon_ , but none of these fanfictions are. Equality. Net Neutrality. SOPA."

Blaine watched Sam shove a fistful of popcorn into his mouth, then raise that same fist for Blaine as a sign of solidarity.

"I appreciate that," said Blaine. Since he was genuinely appreciative, he didn't laugh at his friend's overenthusiastic and somewhat clueless reach for causes.

"Kip going, dude," Sam repeated, although tipsy and with a full mouth, the words sounded distinctly mushy and incomplete. "I'm inno it. I wan' finish. See if they survive."

"Well, okay," Blaine agreed. He'd read a few of these kinds of stories in his efforts to find things to read for Sam, and knew that not only was it likely that the two would survive this pre-prequel scenario and eventually go on to the events of _Phantom Menace_ , but that they would become lovers and life partners in flagrant violation of the Code.

He needed a little hit of liquid courage, though, so he reached for his wine glass and took a fortifying sip.

"So... where was I. Ah, right. _There was something greater between them now, more than ever before. Qui-Gon was in love with Obi-Wan. He wanted the fullest knowledge of his apprentice._

_'There's a particular look in your eyes, Master,' Obi-Wan said. His own clear blue eyes were hopeful. 'What is it?'_

_Qui-Gon could stand it no longer. He said, 'They are full of want for you, my padawan,' and kissed his gasping Obi-Wan gently on the mouth._ "

Blaine shot a nearly imperceptible glance Sam's way, but Sam's expression was the distant, zoned-out sort he got when he was paying close attention but all his processes were busy imagining everything Blaine was reading to him. He didn't look like he was about to grimace or anything, so Blaine steeled himself and continued reading a long, loving missive about the kiss the two Jedi Knights were sharing in their dark shelter, lit only by phosphorescent moss and fungi. There were sentences about their tongues dueling, clashing like light sabers, and many references made to the fever Qui-Gon had suffered earlier in the story.

It was pretty goofy stuff, and went on for several paragraphs. Blaine and Sam both huffed in amusement at various points, but something about it was still entertaining enough to keep either of them from calling for the back button.

However, things got heated for the heroes what seemed like very quickly.

" _Qui-Gon's hand lowered, seeking out Obi-Wan's... rigid manhood..._ " read Blaine. He trailed off for a moment, feeling a heat in his face that had nothing to do with the wine, expecting Sam to call a halt. He saw that Sam's eyebrows had shot up, wrinkling his forehead, and that his eyes were sitting a bit wide. He was just fiddling with a fluffy piece of popcorn, smushing it between his fingertips. "Should I keep reading?"

"This is a sex scene," Sam said, as if it was only just hitting him.

"I think so," Blaine confirmed, trying to chuckle. "I could just skim it and give you a summary if you want."

"Eh. Doesn't bother me."

"You sure? I mean... we can skip it, it probably has no bearing on the plot, and it is excruciatingly detailed."

"Oh, dude, you're embarrassed! That's so sweet."

"I'm not – I am not," Blaine tried to say.

Sam was chortling. "You're, like, way more embarrassed about Obi-Wan's boner than me! Your face right now!"

"Shut up," said Blaine loudly, lifting the iPad closer to his face (which was burning) and locating where he'd left off. Stubbornly putting his best drama student hat on, he continued, ripping into the words vigorously, "... _seeking Obi-Wan's rigid manhood. It throbbed eagerly under his palm._

_'Oh, Master,' whispered Obi-Wan, amazed. 'Please! I know it's not right, but I've dreamt of this so many times...'_

_'As have I,' Qui-Gon told him, and gave him another ravaging kiss. But his padawan's moans were more beautiful than he'd ever dared dream, even in his fever state. He breathed, 'Take down your pants. Let your master touch you.'_

_Obi-Wan trembled as he obeyed, and cried out when Qui-Gon took his naked cock in hand. The Force seemed to reverberate in the cave along with Obi-Wan's pleasured moans._ "

As Sam remained still and silent, clutching the bowl of popcorn in his lap and owlishly staring off into the projection screen of his imagination, Blaine staunchly read on through a marathon of paragraphs.

Qui-Gon gave Obi-Wan what seemed to be a very dominating hand job, peppering the scene with remarks about Obi-Wan's beauty and innocence, and the increasingly twinky Obi-Wan came with the heat of a thousand suns, then pantingly asked for Qui-Gon to disrobe and allow him to reciprocate. Qui-Gon took a brief guilt trip around the Code and the Council, but that just made it all the more sweet when he gave in and allowed Obi-Wan to fondle then suck him like the galaxy's most innocently virginal but somehow well-trained whore, touching himself all the while. Qui-Gon also had the most shattering climax of his life, and Obi-Wan swallowed every drop.

However, the scene wasn't over there.

" _'Master, I feel you aching. You're still so aroused...'_

_'We've gone too far already, Obi.'_

_'Then we've got nothing more to lose. There's no one here to stop us. We may never even find our way from this jungle. You're swelling even harder as I speak.'_

_'Ignore my body.'_

_'I can't. Please. I will beg if you want, Master,' choked Obi-Wan. 'I beg of you. Make me yours!'_ – Wait," Blaine interrupted himself. "Qui-Gon just got off, like, thirty seconds ago. Come on."

"Obi was jerkin' it that whole time. He's raring to go," said Sam.

"Yeah – but he's, like, young! No way Qui-Gon's ready to go again that fast."

"Hello? He's a Jedi, Blaine," Sam pointed out impatiently. "He's got midi-chlorians in his blood and they're all hooked up with the Force and he's trained to do all kinds of stuff! He could probably get a perma-boner if he wanted."

"All right, sure," agreed Blaine, and helped himself to the rest of his wine glass in a few big gulps.

At this point, it seemed like Sam truly wasn't bothered by the content of the story, but despite his bravado, Blaine was feeling a little weird. He was embarrassed in some way that he could neither define nor soothe away with logic or a good joke. The fact that Sam wasn't uncomfortable and Blaine was reminded him a little bit of the crush he'd once harbored, and while he didn't have those kinds of feelings for his friend anymore, he could still remember the vulnerability and helplessness he felt. He'd unintentionally handed Sam the power to make him happy or sad, and sometimes he'd been afraid of rocking the boat and losing Sam's friendship.

But that wasn't the case anymore. So Blaine pushed on.

" _'You are already mine, Obi,' said Qui-Gon. 'You always have been. The Force brought us to one another, and the bonds of master and apprentice can never be severed.'_

_'Prove it to me,' the padawan begged. 'Prove to me I'm yours forever.'_

_'You are ever the headstrong one,' Qui-Gon muttered. He touched the braid hanging over Obi-Wan's chest, proof of the long years they'd spent together, trying to quiet his rioting, lustful mind to listen to the will of the Force. Was it trying to tell him to strengthen their bond? Was it warning him not to? He could hear nothing but the rush of his blood and his padawan's breaths, and he could think of nothing he wanted more than to bury himself in this willing, eager boy's body. He was kissed desperately, his face caressed; Obi-Wan's familiar hands slid over his beard and held his jaw, silently pleading, and the Master knew he was done for._

_He lowered Obi-Wan to the cave floor, pushing his legs apart to make his way between them._

_The wet crown of his cock brushed against Obi-Wan's entrance, causing the boy to gasp._

_'Master – yes!'_

_'Is this what you crave, Obi-Wan?'_

_'Yes. You crave it too, Master. I know you do. You don't have to hold yourself back any longer. Please. Take what already belongs to you.'_

_'Yes, my boy – I can't resist you any longer,' Qui-Gon moaned, and thrust himself in with one powerful stroke._ "

Again, Blaine paused, shaking his head and letting out a sigh.

Sam asked, "Too embarrassed to keep going now that they're butt sexing?"

"Not at all," said Blaine loftily. He was, a little, but more than that, the story was becoming jarringly disconnected from the otherwise fairly decent sense of _Star Wars_ ' fantastical reality. "It's just that... there's no mention of lube or condoms or anything, so."

"'Course they don't have lube or condoms! They're in a cave. The only thing they have is glowing shrooms."

"Yeah, Sam! That's the problem! And here's Obi-Wan, just moaning in ecstasy instead of wincing and going limp and getting torn up..."

"Torn up?" Sam repeated, alarmed. "Dude, does Qui-Gon's junk have those Darth Maul spikes on it, or something?"

"No, but trust me, this is not realistic," Blaine informed him. "It's not like it's impossible, but – no. I refuse to excuse that just because they're Jedi and this is all fictional anyway. This was obviously written by someone who has never done this. Probably a girl, since there's been zero down-time and zero prep."

Sam hummed and stuck a lone piece of popcorn into his mouth. He probably wasn't sure what to say.

"Anyway," Blaine said lamely. "It's okay. No big deal. Back to our implausible story." He cleared his throat. " _Obi-Wan moaned in ecstasy as he was filled to the brim with his master's thick, hard shaft and the two finally became one. His body squeezed around Qui-Gon's most intimate organ..._ Okay, no. But you know what? Moving right along. Da-da-da... _most intimate organ as it moved in him, hitting his prostate with every..._ hm."

"No?" guessed Sam.

"No," said Blaine firmly.

"Okay... I don't really get the problem," Sam admitted. "Is that not how gay sex works? I thought it was just, like: dick, butt, ram-jam, bingo, jackpot. Like, not all that different than what I'd do with a chick, just... different, uh, hole."

"Well, I mean, yes – to a certain extent, you could boil it down to that, and it's not that different," huffed Blaine. "But it is still a little different, and this is just not how it should go, and the inaccuracies are piling up. They're hard for me to ignore."

"So... okay... is it 'cause there's no lube?"

"Well, for one," said Blaine, red-faced. "Without lots of lube and proper preparation, it really wouldn't feel good for Obi-Wan, especially since this is supposed to be his first time, right? In reality, Qui-Gon just shoving it in might actually injure him, and there's no convenient plants with healing properties to boil into a tincture to cure him like there was with Qui-Gon's fever in chapter two. Also, doing it dry like this, it would probably take, like, ten minutes just for Qui-Gon to get in him, and that's after prepping with fingers to get him ready. He wouldn't just slide right in! Not in my experience!"

He saw Sam draw a deep breath, his shoulders and head raising.

"Dude, I have to ask," he said, in a lamenting sort of tone. "What _is_ your experience? Like... are you the Qui-Gon or the Obi-Wan...?"

Blaine laughed, just as an outlet for his tension and mortification, and reached for his bottle of wine. It was actually Santana's wine, and he knew he shouldn't drink it all, but one glass consumed over forty-five minutes obviously wasn't going to get him out of this awkward place.

"Is that your way of asking, like, if I'm a top or a bottom?" he asked clumsily, trying not to spill as he refilled his glass.

With a shrug, Sam said, "I guess? I dunno. Like, who does who..."

"Uh, both," Blaine told him. "Either. It just depends on what we're in the mood for."

"So you do have real butt experience?"

"Yes," Blaine said simply.

Saying it out loud wasn't half as embarrassing as he'd expected it to be. He definitely felt no shame about what he and Kurt did in bed, but he'd never spilled any details about it, not even to Tina. Maybe it was because Sam was asking of his own accord and seemed to be admitting he was curious, so Blaine wasn't just oversharing something unwelcome.

Sam just nodded, mouth clutched in a line.

"We don't always have penetrative sex, though," added Blaine.

"Dude, you can just say 'fuck,'" Sam said, one brow raised. "I'm not, like, eight years old, or totally unfamiliar with backdoor action. I watch porn."

"Oh!" Blaine let out. "Sure. Duh. Okay. We don't always fuck."

"Hand jobs? Blow jobs?"

"Definitely. Both. All the time. Amongst other things."

"Nice," said Sam, bro-ishly.

For some reason, Blaine found himself chubbing in his pants, so he carefully crossed one leg over his knee and settled the iPad protectively over his groin. It had to be because of the story, however much it bothered him to envision the scenario. It was graphic gay sex. The author clearly thought it was hot stuff and the audience was probably meant to find it arousing, too.

Also, maybe it was the wine.

Also, maybe it thrilled him a little to be talking like this with his bro.

"Is ass-fucking hard, though?" Sam asked him. "You're making it sound hard."

"No, it's not difficult. It just takes a little extra effort to help it go nice and smooth and help the bottom be comfortable. It can take a few extra minutes, I guess. I don't know. I've never been with a girl, so I have no idea how long it takes them to be ready," admitted Blaine. "But I have rushed a couple of times when I've been super horny, thinking I'm good to go, when I really need a little more time to, you know. Get a little wetter or relax and open up a little more. It makes all the difference. Luckily, Kurt is more patient than me, so he doesn't really let me rush. He knows exactly what I need to get there... um, is this T.M.I.?"

Sam had a distinctly Renée Zellwegerian expression on his face, like he'd tasted something a bit sour but was also trying to hold his face botox-still.

"It's, like, way past T.M.I., I guess, but – whatever. We're best friends. I should definitely know if you're the master or the apprentice."

Blaine laughed, but this time, it was from genuine amusement. "Well, I don't know if it's that, like, exclusive. When we do fuck, I'd say it's split... I dunno. Sixty-five/thirty-five, maybe? Topping is fun, especially when I'm in the mood. But I do love getting fucked."

For some reason, Sam grinned.

"What?" Blaine asked, fresh from a sip of wine.

"Nothing."

"Are you going to tell me you already knew, or something? Did I just confirm your suspicions?"

"No! I never really thought about it, except maybe once or twice when I was sleeping here and overheard stuff, and uh – I dunno. I never knew either way. It's just cool you told me," said Sam. He was babbling, but Blaine just let him. "It's cool I can ask you stuff and you won't turn it around on me and make me feel weird for asking or say it means I'm secretly gay or anything. Not that there's anything wrong with that. People can think I'm gay if they want. I mean, I'm not, but –"

"I know you're straight, silly. But that's why it's so cool you're so fine with hearing about Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan getting dirty in a glowing blue cave and talking about stuff that freaks most straight guys out," replied Blaine. "I don't really talk to a lot of guys about sex. Especially not in explicit terms. When they're gay, it can walk this fine line between just talking and flirting. When they're straight, it's uncomfortable for them, so it's uncomfortable for me."

"Well, you can always talk to me," said Sam cheerily. "I'm comfortable with you. Can I have some of that wine?"

Blaine handed the glass over to him and watched him take a serious and lengthy sip, eyes narrowing as he judged then accepted the taste.

"Ever been sore from it?" he asked, lowering the glass and giving the red liquid a swill.

"Sometimes," said Blaine. "But always in a good way."

Sam took another deep pull from the glass, then returned it to him nearly emptied, smacking his lips, and announced, "I'd kinda like to try it someday. You know – with a girl."

"Well, I have to ask. Would you top or bottom?" Blaine teased.

Sam shrugged slowly, his lips trying to purse and smile at the same time.

"I don't know, dude. I mean... I guess I'd go for either."

Mouth falling open, Blaine fiddled with the edge of his iPad jacket and tried not to show his profound astonishment.

"Reading inaccurate smut about Obi-Wan Kenobi effortlessly taking a huge dick would make anyone tempted," he managed demurely. "But as we've established, it doesn't go like that."

"You do it and you like it, though," said Sam, by way of explanation.

"That's true. I do. If you use lots of lube – and I can't stress that enough – you might like it, whether you're on top or bottom. Someday you should try it and see."

With a big wave of his hand, Sam said, "Oh, nah, it'll never happen. Mercedes is old-fashioned. Really old-fashioned. Which is awesome! I love that about her. She's super romantic, and, uh. We're taking it slow. You know."

"Kurt is quite the romantic himself. He loves for things to be special and to take things slow. But that just means getting fucked by him is completely intense," said Blaine, aware of Sam's gaze snapping to him. "He just owns it... it's like he's getting inside my soul, too, and not just my body. I mean, he doesn't automatically stimulate my prostate every time he moves just by virtue of being in me – it's not really that simple. But he doesn't have to ever touch it for it to feel amazing. It's the way he looks at me while he's fucking me, filling me up so much there's not room for anything but him. The things he says." He shrugged, smirking. "The real thing puts this fanfiction to shame, is all I'm saying. Qui-Gon could learn a thing or two from him."

"Damn. I feel like I should give him a medal in front of the Gungans or something."

Blaine snickered. "Oh, please make him a big gold macaroni sex medal. I'll pay you."

"No offense, but I kinda thought Kurt was a prude. You said he got mad at you for looking at porn."

"He did, but it was mainly because I was being a total freak about gaining weight, and we hadn't had sex in like, a week, so when he saw it, he took it personally. It was like he thought I preferred porn to him. Which I don't. He's fine with it if I'm being healthy about it."

Sam nodded in understanding.

"Lucky you, dude," he said after a moment. "I hope Mercedes never finds out I watch porn. She would not be cool with it. I should probably give it up cold turkey before I get busted. It's just my only outlet right now. Some of us don't get constant hand jobs or blow jobs or any of the ol' penetrash."

"...Did you just shorten 'penetration' into a fake slang word?"

"I don't think Mercedes would like me to say the f-word about her," said Sam.

"Ah. Well, that's very noble of you."

"Nah. She can just sense the Dark Side in me, man. I don't want to lose frenching privileges, so I better not even think about the stuff I wanna do with her."

"I guess that makes her the master and you the apprentice?"

"She totally knows she's the master," replied Sam. "I told her she is. And she's not gonna let me face the trials and level up to Jedi Knight anytime soon, if you know what I mean."

"Until then, there's always smutty _Star Wars_ fanfiction," said Blaine, tapping his iPad's screen to wake it back up.

"I hope she never finds out you read me a _Star Wars_ sex story," said Sam, "or that I enjoyed it."

"Are you really enjoying it? 'Cause you don't have to say that just for my sake."

"I'm not! I know you MythBusted butt sex, but yeah – I dunno, it's kinda cool. It's not canon, but I'm a romantic. I'm kind of into this story, anyway. I wanna know how they get off the planet."

"Well, Mr. Romantic, this story has what looks to be several more sex scenes over seven more chapters," said Blaine, peering at the story's header information and stats. "Do you want me to keep going?"

"It's not that I mind the sex scenes, but I dunno how many more either of us can take tonight," said Sam, putting the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table. "I'm so backed up, just talking about gay sex is giving me weird wood I'm not totally sure what to do with, and you're being totally picky and kinda cockblocking Qui and Obi, so I can't even enjoy my weird boner. Maybe you could bookmark it, though. We can finish it some other time."

"I will do that," said Blaine pleasantly. "And I'll turn on the white noise machine if you need some alone time, or whatever..."

"Yup. Should've read that time travel Leia fic," Sam lamented, heaving himself off the sofa and heading toward the restroom with a hitch in his posture. Over his shoulder, he added, "Hey, maybe you should write some slash. You know _Star Wars_ and you could get the butt sex part right. Then you could read it to me. Everybody wins!"

Blaine helped himself to the last of the wine. Even considering his busy schedule and the fact that he didn't fancy himself a writer, the puppet master in him couldn't help but ponder the suggestion.

"How about I just find some fanfiction that gets it right in the first place?" he asked.

Sam snorted. "Good luck with that."


End file.
